Carry On My Wayward Son (or How John found a son-in-law in Tony Stark)
by InsertPotterThemedUsernameHere
Summary: The five times John Winchester called Tony Stark his son-in-law and the one time Tony Stark called John Winchester his father-in-law. Third in, "Supernatural Husbands" series. Tony/Dean, angst, fluff; Pre-Iron Man, Pre-SPN, Pre-series
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** _Carry On My Wayward Son_ (or How John Winchester Found a Son-in-Law in Tony Stark)

**Series:** Supernatural Husbands

**Summary:** The five times John Winchester called Tony Stark his son-in-law, and the one time Tony Stark called John Winchester his father-in-law. Third in Supernatural Husbands series.

**Timeline:** January 2003, Pre-Iron Man, Pre-SPN

**Warnings:** Slash, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, John Winchester

**Pairing: **Dean Winchester/Tony Stark

**Author's Note:** Here it is, the third installment of the "Supernatural Husbands" series, which will follow our boys through Avengers. Fanfic and AO3 will be updated at the same time.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything that is recognized.

**"1. 23 and Retired"**

_Carry on my wayward son,_

_There'll be peace when you are done._

_Lay your weary head to rest,_

_Don't you cry no more._

**"Carry on My Wayward Son," Kansas**

"Winchester."

"Hey Dad."

"Dean – so I assume from your radio silence the past week that everything's worked out between you and your guy?"

"Yeah, it is. It's – it's real good now –"

"Don't need details, son. I'm not one of those hippie-yuppie parents who need to know all the personals of their kids sex lives. Anyway, I got a case for you – it's a couple hours outta the way –"

"About that, Dad –"

"Don't tell me –"

"Yeah. I – I can't hunt anymore, Dad."

[pause]

"C'mon, Dad, you knew it was a possibility."

[pause]

"It's – it's just too dangerous. Tony's working on erasing my record and creating a new I.D. for me – it's both way too simple and complicated than I thought it would be – and it would be no help if I kept hunting and kept racking up warrants. Plus, when it comes out that we're dating – and it will, because that's his life – the press is going to be digging up as much dirt as they can. We're trying to decrease the impact as much as possible."

"So, what if after all that you guys have done, they still find out. What's he going to do then?"

"Well, we talked about it. No one except his P.A. will know we're together. I'll keep out of the way, but if someone sees us, I'll just act as his bodyguard. If we can keep this under wraps for two to three years, Tony will have built up enough leverage to get the government to clean up my records for us."

"And how the fuck is he going to do that?"

"Dad, you did know that Stark Industries is the sole supplier of weapons for the U.S. military?"

"Yeah – and they were back when I served too, though that was when his daddy was still running things."

"Yeah, well, they have him building some missiles that will revolutionize war. The way he talks about it, these missiles will completely obliterate the enemy and be a deterrent to other nations. The war on terrorism will be over."

"Dean, hate to burst your bubble, but that's what they said about _the bomb_. Deterrents don't work, not completely. And if you ask me, this war their having in Afghanistan is stupid. I get it – after 9/11, they have to do something, but Russians tried to do the same thing in 80s, and they busted big time. If you ask me, this is going to go just like 'Nam, going on until infinity, because you can't fight guerilla warfare with missiles –"

"Look, the point is that Tony is going to work with the government to get my record expunged – he'll have enough political capital at that time."

"'Political capital' – he got you using big words now –"

"Haha – look Dad, Tony is positive it'll work, and he's the one with experience, so I trust him."

"OK, kid, but tell me – what will you do if his plans are shot out of the water or someone finds out before? What's the plan, then?"

"He has a house on an island that doesn't have an extradition treaty and millions of dollars in offshore bank accounts."

[pause]

"Dad?"

"He doesn't do anything by halves does he?"

"No. No he does not. And, well – If – if that happened, we'd see if we could get you, too, to come with –"

"Don't you dare! What would I do on an island, twiddle my toes in the sand? Fuck, no. If something happens, send postcards to Pastor Jim, and they'll get to me. Don't you think even think of calling or trying to find me. You get the hell out of dodge, or I'll make you wish you were in federal custody, you hear me?"

[pause]

"Dean: Do. You. Understand. Me?"

"Yeah, I understand."

"Good."

[pause]

"Dad?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"You OK with me retiring?"

"Am I happy? No – but I told you that last week. Am OK? Yeah, Dean, I'm OK. Dean?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"He loves you?"

"Yeah, he does."

"He worth all the trouble?"

"Yeah, Dad, he is."

"Then you don't need me to OK it."

"But – I just – I really want you to be OK with it, Dad. You're my dad. I know this wasn't what you had planned –"

"Like I said, Dean, you're a grown man. You got your own life and your own – guy. Do want you want and tell anyone else who tries to get in the way to fuck off. Including me. But I'm not. Trying to get in the way, that is. Your guy – he's OK, I guess. He didn't shit himself or run off when I met him, which I respect, and now he's trying to build you a new life, which I appreciate. He'll make a good son-in-law."

[Dean chokes a little at the word son-in-law].

"But, you know me, Dean – I'm not always going to be nice. I'm an asshole, and I know it –"

"I get it, Dad. But I have to say – you've been surprisingly not that much of an asshole about everything."

"You're my son, Dean. Though, you'd think I had a daughter with the amount of girl talk you've made me do in the past few weeks. Do you need more – girl talk that is? Or are you going to be a man and stop needing my permission for shit?"

"Yeah, no more chick flicks, I get it."

"Good, because if not, I'd have no idea what sized tampon I'd have to get ya, and there is an entire aisle full of different kinds of that shit."


	2. Chapter 2

**Timeline:** February 2003, Pre-Iron Man, Pre-SPN

**Chapter Two, "2. Stark Weapons, for the Hunters in All of Us"**

_Once I rose above the noise and confusion,_

_Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion,_

_I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high._

** "Carry on My Wayward Son," Kansas**

"Winchester."

"John – I told you to stop using me as your damn mailbox!"

"Hey, Bobby. So I guess you got the box?"

"No shit, idjit. What the fuck's in the box?"

"You haven't opened it, yet?"

"No, I'm just asking for shits and giggles. What do you think, numskull?"

"Look, it's from Dean. Him and his guy have been playing around trying to build guns specifically for hunters."

"I thought Dean retired?"

"He is. He's not going into the field, but it's looking like he wants to do some behind-the-scenes stuff."

"Behind-the-scenes stuff involves making weapons?"

"He's with the number one arms dealer in the world – it's not too far a stretch. And apparently Tony was offended that hunters hated his brand."

"Did you tell him about Kirk and why exactly we steer clear of 'em?"

"Dean did, and Tony apparently took that as a challenge. Dean's been working with him on them."

"Well, I'll believe it when I see it."

"You can see it right now – they're in the fucking box. Two of everything they've been working on. One for me and one for you, asshole."

"Why didn't Dean call and tell me?"

"It's nearing Valentines if you didn't notice. I was barely able to get through my phone call from Dean without hearing way too much. Look, I don't want to talk about it. Just open the damn box and tell me what you think of them. I can't get there until tomorrow at the earliest."

"Call you in an hour."

[An hour later]

"Winchester."

"They're adequate."

"Good to know my son-in-law nearly blew himself up for 'adequate.' C'mon, really – they better or worse than what we use?"

"You let me try things that blew somebody up?! You fucking ass-"

"Nearly – nearly blew somebody up. But they found the problem and blowing up is no longer an issue. And all of Tony's sight returned. Anyway, so? What's the verdict?"

"They're better."

"Great – I'll be over to yours tomorrow."

"You got the money you owe me?"

"I told you, that bet's off – Dean's pan-o-sexual."

"Your son likes cock – he's gay."

"He also likes pussy, so we both win the bet. No dice."

"He's currently shacked up with a man who built the weapons I currently have in my possession and can easily keep from you."

[pause]

"So, what's your decision?"

"Fine – I'll bring your damn money."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three, "3. StarkPad, Hunter Edition"**

_Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man,_

_Though my mind could think I still was a mad man,_

_I hear the voices when I'm dreaming,_

_I can hear them say_

** "Carry on My Wayward Son," Kansas**

"Winchester."

"Hey, Dad. How are you? Those weapons working OK? Haven't heard from you in a few months."

"Been just fine, Dean. They are working out, well, like a damn dream to be honest. Bagged two ghouls and pack of werewolves easily. Guys at the bar are fucking envious, that's for sure. Wanna know where I get the good shit."

"What'd you tell them?"

"My son-in-law's a wiz with weapon design."

"You actually told them that?!"

"Yeah – you think I'm fucking ashamed of you, boy?"

"No, sir, I just – "

"Look, most of the guys don't give a shit. And the ones that do can go fuck themselves on the end of my shotgun. In fact, everyone was impressed and asked me if they could get their hands on some."

"We are looking into the production side – Tony and Pepper are just figuring out a way they can use Stark Industries resources without most people knowing. I'll let you know soon. Anyway, that's not the main reason why I called – I was wondering if I could borrow your journal, Dad."

"Whadja need that for?"

"Have you heard of StarkPads?"

"No – has he gone into the feminine hygiene market now?"

"What? No – ew, no! It's like on Stark Trek, where they use a computer PADD instead of pen and paper. Tony's created one and will be releasing it soon to stores. But, he has plans to make one specifically for hunters."

"Does he now."

"Yeah. I told him how we do hunts, with research and calling Ash and Bobby, etc. He – well, to be honest, he was a bit freaked about how haphazard our system is. And a bit freaked about all the supernatural creatures he still doesn't know about. He doesn't like not knowing about things. So he had the idea to have all the information in one place on the StarkPad. It's like your journal, only everyone can share it, because it'll be connected with the internet."

"Seems awfully complicated."

"It's not really. The StarkPads will come with an encyclopedia of sorts with an index, to make it easier to figure out what people are dealing with. Different hunters can add information as they go along, that way no one is caught off guard by something others know of."

"Look, Dean, that sounds nice, but there are a lot of stupid fucks that are just going to mess that system up."

"That's why there will be a system administrator to check any new data. There could be a couple, like Ash, Bobby, and Pastor Jim."

"Not me?"

"No offence, but I doubt you'd like to fact-check all day. You'd probably throw it at the wall and break it."

"Prolly right."

"We can test it with you and Bobby – and then Ash and Pastor Jim. If it works out OK, then we can start to sell them. But I need your journal first, to be a test run. You can mail it to us."

"Alright, but if my journal gets lost in the mail, there is no place that boyfriend of yours can hide that I won't find him."

[Dean whispers something to someone away from the phone.]

"Tony just said he's going have a courier come to your location to pick it up for you."

"Good boy."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four, "4. Westchester Security and Communications, Inc."**

_On a stormy sea of moving emotion,_

_Tossed about, I'm like a ship on the ocean,_

_I set a course for winds of fortune,_

_And I hear the voices say_

** "Carry on My Wayward Son," Kansas**

"I've asked you all to come here because my son and I got a new business operation going."

"What kinda business, John?"

"If you'd shaddup and let me finish, you'd find out."

"Is it to do with your fancy gear?"

"Yeah. What we're peddling are new hunting weapons and a hunting tablet."

"What the fuck's a tablet?"

"If you knuckleheads would pipe down, I'm sure he'd explain it."

"Thanks, Ellen. See this here? This is a mini-computer called a tablet or Pad. This holds an encyclopedia of my notes, Bobby Singer's, Pastor Jim's, and Ash here's notes on all the baddies we've experienced and have knowledge of, along with a map of all our hunts so we can spot patterns. Everyone can add to our info, so we can all share what we'd done and what we're doing and what we know."

"Seems like a lotta work tryin' to fix summat that don't need fixin'. What we got going is fine enough, right fellas?"

"Yeah!" "That's right!"

"Don't need fixin'? Why don't we tell that to Johnny Matson and Troy Smithers that got in over their heads with those wendigos? Or Mark Summers and that pack of werewolves? Or even my dear Billy? If he and John – "

[Ellen could not continue, so John finished her thought]

"If Bill and I'd known more of the history of the area, then maybe Ellen here wouldn't be a widow."

[pause]

"What would we need to do, John?"

"You'd plug this tablet into a computer connected to the internet, even one at the library would do. It'll update what's been added to the encyclopedia and map. You can add your own notes and locations, but it'll have ta be approved by certain folks. Fuck knows some you lot won't know what you're doing and try ta mess it all up."

[some guffaws and nods]

"You can take pictures with this and make video calls when connected to the internet, so you can still call Ash, Bobby, or Pastor Jim if needed – or well anyone who also has this tablet so we can share info easy. Here, I'll pass it around so y'all can play with it. It's made to be manhandled, so it won't break easy."

[The tablet is passed around, and everyone's amazed at it.]

"Got one important question, John."

"No you can't watch porn on it."

[laughter]

"Haha, so funny. No, my question is, what's the catch? There's gotta be one. This gonna cost an arm and a leg?"

"Y'all get it for free."

"But?"

"No buts. Anyone putting their life on the line to hunt deserves something like this to help."

"How can you afford this? It's gotta be major dough, man."

"The tablet'll be free, but the weapons and ammo? That'll cost ya."

"What makes you think we'll buy off ya, when we have our own that are just fine?"

"Just fine? That's why your gun jammed last week and Daryl had to save your sorry ass?"

"What makes yours so special? You say your son-in-law makes 'em, but just who is he? Why should we trust his work?"

"He works within Stark Industries, and Dean's been working with him to make Stark weapons for hunters. These babies are made specifically for salt and iron shells and silver bullets. The design is already sawed off, so no issues with that. Let's just go out back, and I'll give a demonstration."

[They move outside for the demonstration all grumbling and return ten minutes later silent.]

"So? Who wants one?"

[Every hunter raised his/her hand]

"And you can make cheques out to Westchester Security and Communications, Inc.."

"Really?"

"Fuck no, like I trust any of your cheques. Cash only, assholes."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five, "5. Samuel Colt's Got Nothing on Tony Stark"**

_Masquerading as a man with a reason,_

_My charade is the event of the season,_

_And if I claim to be a wise man,_

_Well, it surely means that I don't know._

** "Carry on My Wayward Son," Kansas**

"Winchester."

"Hey, Dad. Thanks again for talking to everyone at the Road House. We've been getting orders in non-stop."

"No problem, Dean. Now what are you calling about? I know it wasn't just to thank me, and I'm a bit busy at the moment."

"Have you seen what Ash has done with the demon-tracking on the maps?"

"Yeah, it'd be hard not to. No yellow-eyes though – unless, have you seen something, Dean?"

"No, Dad – nothing on him. But did you notice the negative space?"

"Negative what? You've been spending too much time around Tony – Shit!"

"What's wrong?"

"This ghost just opened a window and blew away the salt line. Take that you bastard –"

"You're seriously on the phone right now? Are you fucking insane? I'm hanging up. Call me when you're done."

[Dean hangs up to sounds of screeching and John cursing]

*SaltIron*SaltIron*SaltIron*

"Dean."

"Hey son, just burnt the bones. Now tell me what all this is about? Neglected space?"

"Negative space, Dad. Have you noticed the blank spaces where there is no demon activity whatsoever? Check out Wyoming."

[Some grumbles as John works on the tablet, pause]

"Motherfuck. It's in the shape of a devil's trap."

"What's a devil's trap?" (1)

"It can trap Demons. Bobby's been talking about them for a while. He even put an entry about them in encyclopedia. Haven't you been reading up on it? Or you been too busy bumping uglies with loverboy?"

"Ew, never say 'bumping uglies' again. It's gross and awkward. So, I need to tell Tony this information. And get off the phone with you. Call you back soon."

[Dean hangs up to the sound of John's laughter]

*SaltIron*SaltIron*SaltIron*

"Winchester."

"Hey, Dad."

"Well that was quick. Only half hour."

"Yeah well, Tony and I work well together – and we can be professional –"

"I know, boy, don't get your panties in a bunch. I just like to tease you's all."

"OK, well, we looked at the satellite images – the devil's trap's made of iron railway lines with a church at every point. I guess Samuel Colt knew what he was doing."

"Did you just say Samuel Colt?"

"Yeah, why? Does that matter?"

"Eh – no. No, son. Just surprising's all. He was the one who was responsible for Colts. Love them guns."

"Yeah, I know. He also was the one responsible for the railways. Anyway, so this has given Tony an idea –"

"That boy is always full of ideas."

"True. But this one is a beauty: we can recreate the Devil's Trap but on a much larger scale."

"Larger than this? This is pretty fucking large, son."

"Yeah, but instead with railway lines, we use underground iron piping."

"Wouldn't that rust, though?"

"That's what we need to test. It's not clear if there is a coating on the iron – like zinc – if that will ruin the effectiveness of the trap."

"Tell my son-in-law to send some zinc coated iron to Bobby, and he'll weld it and have Pastor Jim and I test it. How's that sound?"

"Sounds great, Dad. Thanks."

"Don't thank me just yet. It could be a disaster and fail completely. Yet..."

"What?"

"This could be the real deal, Dean. A way of protecting all our land from all that evil. You got yourself there a real good man, Dean."

"I know, Dad. I think that every day."

[Both Dean and John hang up, smiling]

(1) Supposedly, the Winchester brothers didn't know of Devil's Traps until the 22 episode of season 1. Yet, later flashbacks show the boys with Devil's Traps before season one. I'm just going to go with the original idea they were unaware.

**AN:** Hello, lovelies! Only one more chappie to go in this fic, but the series will continue. Many of you have asked where exactly this series is going. If you shuffle over to my AO3, you'll see the outline of this series. I have 13 parts planned out.

Also, I have a new poll up! It's on what HP-centric fic you want to see in the future (not that it would be written any time soon, since I got enough WIPs, but I need to know which plotbunnies I need to feed).


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six, "+1. Thanksgiving"

_Carry on,_

_You will always remember,_

_Carry on,_

_Nothing equals the splendor._

_Now your life's no longer empty,_

_Surely heaven waits for you._

**"****Carry on My Wayward Son," Kansas**

"Winchester. You know what to do."

*beep*

"Hey Dad, it's Dean. You never answered on whether or not you were coming down next week for Thanksgiving. Call me back when you can."

"Winchester. You know what to do."

*beep*

"Hey Dad, Dean again. Tony said he'd be getting a big Turkey. We're gonna need help eating it all. Call me back."

"Winchester. You know what to do."

*beep*

"Dad, look, it's fine. If you don't want to come to Malibu, it's cool. Just let me know you're OK. Please."

"You have three new messages –"

"Messages deleted."

Mary's favorite holiday was Thanksgiving. As a child, she had envied the other children whose families had great meals and gatherings on the day where family was supposed to be honored and remembered. Hers, on the other hand, treated it as just another Thursday in November. Samuel and Deanna Campbell were always busy with something or another (not that Mary spoke of them much), and the first time she had a proper Thanksgiving was with John. His beautiful wife had gone all out, cooking much too much for the pair of him, which the guys at the garage didn't mind: the leftovers gave everyone a week's worth of lunches.

The very day of Mary's death, she had been planning the feast for the four of them. It would have been the first Thanksgiving since they had reconciled and the first since Sammy was born.

When the actual day had come some weeks later, John and the boys were holed up some shithole motel somewhere in the middle of Montana, Dean nibbling on a turkey sandwich as he fed his little brother his bottle. John himself had already crawled into his own bottle and didn't come out of it until Dean had tugged on his leg the next afternoon, saying he was hungry.

John took a swig of his beer.

After having been such a shit father, John could hardly believe that Dean still liked him enough to invite him to Thanksgiving with him and Tony. But John couldn't. Wouldn't.

He heard more than saw a man sitting at his table, his eyes studying the half-picked off label of the local beer.

"Not interested in company, find your own table," John growled.

"That's your problem – you should be interested," the man replied, and John's eyes shot up. He was about to reply when he recognized the face in front of him.

Tony Stark.

"What the fuck're you doing here?" John exclaimed, nearly tipping his beer over.

"Should be asking you the same thing," Tony replied, putting his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand. "Dean's been worrying about you, since you haven't replied to his invitations to spend Thanksgiving with us."

"Well, ye can tell 'im, m'fine," John replied, taking another swig. "And he should be focusing on ye two and not on me."

"Uh-huh, well I think if you took out the 'not', you'd be right," Tony responded, and clarified at John's blank look. "He should focus on us two _and_ you. You're his father. The only blood family that is willing to connect with him – or are you abandoning him like Sam did?"

"I'm not abandoning him!" John stood and yelled, and then at the silence and looks from the other bar patrons, he sat down and spoke softer. "Look, don't let him get that into his head. It's not about him. It's – it's – look," and only because he'd already had a good many beers did his pride let him confess the truth of it all.

"'m no good," John continued. "Tomorrow's bout family, and I fucked it up. Couldn't protect Mary, so she's dead. Overprotected Sam, so he's run off. Then Dean's done everything I asked and that's fucked up his record, so he almost lost ye. Now he's happy. Don't wanna fuck it up. Especially on Thanksgiving. It is – it was Mary's favorite day. Can't – can't fuck up that day for her boys anymore. Don't – don't deserve nuthun."

"Look, you didn't – OK, yeah, you did fuck up sometimes, but what father doesn't?" Tony said, straightening up and putting a hand on John's shoulder. "And you are shit ton better than my old man. At least when you drink, you don't take it out on anyone but yourself. You did your best with what you had. I'm sure that Mary would have been proud of you."

"Why are you here?" John asked again, not wanting to hear those words.

"I'm here to bring my father-in-law home for Thanksgiving," Tony stated firmly.

"Home?" John barked out a laugh and finished his beer. "I got no home, son, in case you didn't notice."

"Isn't the saying, home is where the heart is, or some shit like that?" Tony said, and stood. "Dean is your home, just like he's mine. And he is sad as fuck that you've been ignoring him. I don't know if you come whether you'll fuck it up, but I do know that if you don't, you will have assuredly fucked up. So, your choice is to either possibly fuck it up by coming back with me or truly fuck it up by staying, and at least if you come, you'll get a free meal out of it."

John thought for a moment and was at a loss at how to reply. The boy had a solid argument.

"Fine, I'll come," John replied, and stood, albeit slightly wobbly. "And, well, thanks."

Tony helped balance him with a hand on his arm.

"What else is family for?" Tony replied easily, and they made their way out of the bar, John chuckling. "What's so funny?"

"Dean was right," the older man answered. "You are such a fucking cornball."

**AN:** If John sounds slightly OOC, it's because he has had more than enough to drink and actually does want to come to Thanksgiving. Didn't need much convincing.

Anyway, this is the end of this particular fic. Hope you enjoyed. Next time we see our boys, we will start to catch up at Iron Man and SPN S1. Prepare yourselves for so much angst. So. Much. Angst.

Because this is a series, the best way to keep updated on when the next fic is posted is through author alerts.

See you next time, in "Highway to Hell (or Triple MIA)".

**AN 2:** So, I've been updating my Ao3 much more often than fanfic dot net when it comes to this series, so starting today I'm cross posting the fics that I've already published there back to here. Apologies to the fanfic dot net audience. I will get better at it, promise.

Happy Christmas/Festive Season, Love, Insie


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